


Yes, my lord

by from within (aconite_fic)



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-11-18
Updated: 2012-11-18
Packaged: 2017-11-18 23:23:32
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,188
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/566432
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aconite_fic/pseuds/from%20within
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <a href="http://colinized.tumblr.com/post/35843705076">When Merlin talks in Dragonspeak, Arthur has to obey.</a>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	Yes, my lord

“You’re a Dragonlord.”

 

That’s it. That’s the same tone he used when he said “You’re a sorcerer” a few months ago. The ‘you-can’t-be-serious-but-I-am-willing-to-listen-to-explanations’ tone. His face is also the same – expectant, mostly calm; a hint of impatience is clenching his jaw repeatedly.

 

Merlin lets out a long breath and replies firmly, “Yes.”

 

It’s easier to admit so this time, when he’s been through The Reveal. When he’d come clean, Arthur had raged and listened and then raged some more. In the end, he’d accepted the truth and made peace with it.

 

Now they just stare at each other. Merlin is waiting for a response and Arthur just lets a few moments pass, making worry creep under the servant’s skin. He gives his response just as Merlin was about to open his mouth and start mumbling.

 

“Alright.”

 

 “Al—right?”

 

“Yes. It’s alright.”

 

“Are you sure? Are _you_ alright?”

 

“Yes, Merlin,” he sounds exasperated. “I… know. I know you’re a Dragonlord.”

 

“You do?”

 

“I didn’t want to talk to you about it.”

 

“But why not? You have the right to—”

 

“You are Balinor’s son,” Arthur cuts him off. Merlin purses his lips and nods. “I figured it out… I figured it out after you told me about your magic. I thought it might pain you to talk about it.”

 

“I… understand. Thank you, Arthur.”

 

Arthur nods and puts his hand on his servant’s shoulder.

 

“It’s been a tiring day. Bed now, talk tomorrow?” He smiles. Merlin grins in response.

 

“Yes, sire.”

 

 

The next morning, Arthur rolls over on his bed and sighs. Merlin is his first thought and he’s thankful that he’s woken up early enough to have a few thoughts to himself before his servant barges in. He had hoped for an epiphany to strike him in the night, showing him the right way to approach the subject.

 

The thing is, Arthur really knew about Merlin being a Dragonlord. He’s known ever since they _met_ Balinor. He spent years in pretense oblivion, until his servant found the right moment to tell him himself. By the time Arthur was used to the idea that Merlin was a sorcerer, but it’d sure felt good to be actually able to _talk_ about it, and he was sure Merlin was relieved as well. He didn’t tell him that he knew, though.

 

It was too strange, how he found out.

 

He remembers being knocked out by the dragon. He remembers floating between consciousness and darkness, only to be fully awoken by a powerful demand channeling his whole being.

 

He’d heard Merlin speak to the dragon. Something inside of Arthur had snapped into place and he had tuned himself to obey everything Merlin might request of him.

 

Arthur had pretended to be unconscious. He had no choice, really – he’d recognized his Lord’s voice, but he wasn’t being directly spoken to, so it wasn’t his place to intrude. He listened to their conversation and ‘came to’ after the dragon had left. He’d let Merlin convince him that he had defeated the dragon. He’d let himself be convinced to anything when it came to Merlin. He knew that now, and he felt a little scared, but more content, really. It had felt completely natural at the time.

 

But now? He is very afraid. Ashamed, also. He is the King, he is supposed to rule, be a leader – and his basic instincts tell him to bend his knee in front of his own manservant.

 

Said man strides into his chambers.

 

“Ah, sire, you're awake,” Merlin sounds delighted as he puts Arthur’s breakfast on the table. He opens the curtains and starts tidying up.

 

“Merlin,” Arthur says as he rises in his bed. His servant stands by his bed, eyeing him expectantly. “Talk to me. In the dragon tongue.”

 

“Sire?”

 

“Just do it.”

 

“I’m not sure I’ll be able to. I only use it when I need to summon or command the Dragon, and we don’t want him coming around, do we?” Merlin laughs nervously.

 

“Don’t direct it at the dragon. Direct it at me.” He points to his chest. “Pendragon.”

 

Merlin just stares at him.

 

“What would you like me to say?”

 

“Anything. A command, if you wish.”

 

Merlin gulps and looks at him like he could see into his very soul. He hisses a single word.

 

His ears don’t understand the language, but his mind does. He feels the urge to get out of bed and obeys it instantly, staying completely still and looking at his servant.

 

“I told you to get up,” Merlin says. Arthur can’t make anything out of his tone, nor his expression.

 

“I know,” he replies. His own voice trembles and he sways slightly to the side, his heart beating fast.

 

Merlin speaks again.

 

_Come here._

 

Arthur obeys.

 

“I never knew,” Merlin says once they are inches away.

 

“I did,” Arthur replies.

 

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

 

Arthur tries to give him a sarcastic look, saying _Really? After you spent years hiding?_ Instead, he gives a pleading one.

 

Merlin swallows difficultly. They stay put for a few moments, just feeling their veins bubble as this new connection was set between them.

 

“You are my master as much as I am yours,” Arthur whispers finally. Merlin kisses him without hesitation.

 

They wrap their arms around each other in an instant. Arthur groans and pushes forward, tasting Merlin’s tongue, wanting to claim him, wanting to be claimed. His fingers work on his neckerchief’s knot and he discards it quickly, pushing his jacket off as he moves to kiss and bite on Merlin’s neck. The sorcerer moans and pulls Arthur’s nightshirt up and off. He then gets rid of his own tunic and pushes his king back until the back of his knees reach the bed and he sits. He looks up through his golden fringe and gives him a little smile. Merlin can’t help himself but pet his head, smiling back. Arthur leans into it and pulls on Merlin’s trousers.

 

When he’s completely naked, Merlin sits astride Arthur and kisses him again deeply, cradling his head in his hands.

 

“Touch me,” he says softly. It doesn’t need to be an order for Arthur to comply. His hand finds Merlin’s cock and he tugs on it firmly, swallowing the small noises his actions caused.

 

He moves back a bit, lying onto the bed properly, his sorcerer on top of him. Merlin slides down a bit until their cocks are aligned together and starts grinding down, making them both groan. Arthur’s hands find themselves on Merlin’s chest, mapping, caressing. His lips follow.

 

“Sire,” Merlin exhales softly. Arthur’s chest fills with affection and he finds the other’s lips again.

 

It’s slow, passionate, private. It’s perfect.

 

_Come._

Arthur obeys.

 

He moans out his release, gripping the body atop of him tightly, feeling it shudder as Merlin rides out his orgasm. The warlock stops in a bit, exhaling deeply and rolling onto his side. He flings an arm around Arthur’s chest and kisses his shoulder. Arthur touches his cheek, making him look up.

 

“I’m yours,” the King promises.

 

“I am yours, as well,” the Dragonlord replies with a small smile.


End file.
